LOSSOFPRECIOUSDARKNESS

The terror of night—time of mind’s descent into flesh and re-entry into life, that false light of amnesia—suddenly appears as a blow to the head, a razor’s line. We fear the loss of precious darkness; we are weary of encountering our blindness in the stark white of capture. The terror that swoops from above with no anticipatory sensation: have our weapons gone dead or have we lost our ability to give bodily passage to fear? Owl and villagers bypass fear and meet at terror’s favored destination—a space of detention where (formerly captive) owl sits captive awaiting transfer, and villagers ponder the meaning of its aggression. This is the site of local entertainment, the spellbinding place where the new storyteller sits with the eyes of a drone, spinning reborn myths of aggression, conditioning, and relocation, tales of an abandoned anthropo-human.